


i just want to be wanted

by volunteer_of_hufflepuff



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Insecure Alec Lightwood, Light Angst, M/M, Neighbours, Neighbours to Lovers, Pining, mundane AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/volunteer_of_hufflepuff
Summary: Alec Lightwood has been pining over his cute neighbour, Magnus Bane, for nearly a year now. But he’s not going to do anything about it, because men like Magnus - smart, gorgeous and kind - don’t fall for people like Alec, the grumpy and socially inept lawyer.Yet when Magnus turns up one night to use Alec’s shower because his own is broken to clean up for a date, of all things, and the date then fails specularly - well, maybe Alec does have a chance, after all, if Magnus has anything to say about it.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 37
Kudos: 270





	i just want to be wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: “My shower’s broken but I’ve got a date tonight could I possibly use your shower please?” “Oh sure (neighbour that I’ve been crushing on for the past six months) of course you can use my shower to get ready for your date (fuck fuck fuck)”
> 
> title from 'wanted' by onerepublic. featuring a heavily pining alec lightwood: if you want to livetweet, you can use #mirroroflitfic.
> 
> thanks to sugarandspace for betaing this!
> 
> hope you enjoy this fic that I started a year ago!

Alec blinks. He did not expect _this_ when he opened the door.

It’s Magnus - his absolutely adorable neighbour - in a concerning state of disarray. Magnus’ grey shirt clings to his torso, drenched in sweat, hair swept in every direction. Nail polish chipping, face bare of make-up, it’s the most dressed down Alec’s ever seen him.

It’s also 5:15 on a Friday night and Alec is _tired_.

Law may be his passion, but some days he wishes that he had chosen a profession that didn’t involve so much nagging, constant tweaks and ideas coming from those he defends, especially with the downright petty cases. Aeroplane mode is quickly becoming his phone’s default setting.

So, when his crush comes knocking on his door on a Friday night, he blinks, disoriented.

“What?” he says, instead of something charming designed to impress.

His brain went offline sometime during lunch today and it’s not coming back until Tuesday morning. 

Magnus fidgets with the sweatband on his wrist. “Um,” Magnus says, “well. Normally I wouldn’t ask, but my shower is broken.”

Alec’s synapses must be malfunctioning. Broken. 

This is unusual. Even for Magnus.

“And I have a date tonight,” Magnus finishes quickly, shattering Alec’s dreams, “so, well, post-gym work out is probably not the best first impression.”

Magnus’ grey t-shirt sticks to his body, sure: but Alec wouldn’t call it a bad thing, or maybe just for the way it draws attention to Magnus’ biceps, which he has to make a conscious effort to not stare at.

“Oh, definitely not,” Alec replies, after only a few seconds of silent despair.

“May I use your shower?” Magnus asks like the rush of a waterfall. “I’ve got towels, and everything, just not a functioning shower.”

Alec sighs, trying to not act rashly. “Of course,” he replies because apparently, he likes to suffer.

Or maybe he’s just not an asshole.

Magnus beams, bright and warm, rivalling the sun. “Thanks!”

And then Magnus turns away and Alec shuts the door and he breathes.

And it’s a second. And a reprieve. But not for long. Not that long until he has to paste a smile onto his face again.

So here’s the thing. Alec has lived in this building, with its bleached walls and abundant fake plants, for about two years. A year or so ago, Magnus had moved in down the hall.

And one day, Magnus had come knocking on his door for some sugar of all things. 

Alec couldn’t help himself but fall, at that moment. To the cold, unforgiving marble floor that for some reason made up their corridor.

Thing is, turns out Alec has a weakness for sweet, talented Physicists who are simply too good for this world.

Men like Magnus. Men like Magnus, who will never be interested in Alec, the grumpy lawyer who really doesn’t hate everyone but everyone thinks he does. Men like Magnus who already have dates, and plans, and places to be that Alec would never set foot in because no one ever would _want_ him to.

Least of all Magnus.

But because he likes Magnus, he wants him to lead a good life. So he does stupid things, ignoring his own feelings in an effort to help Magnus.

Like offering Magnus his shower to use so that he can clean up for his _date_.

Who is very decisively not _Alec_ , because that would require Alec actually doing anything about his feelings rather than stuffing them down into the dark dungeons of his soul.

Alec groans as he throws a clatter of kernels into a pot glowing with bubbling oil, waiting for the door to ring again.

Perhaps he should have just asked Magnus out that first time. Or that second time.

Or maybe the dozenth.

But it’s never been appropriate. It’s been fire alarms throwing them all out of bed at 3 AM. College students blasting music at 2 AM, dragging an exhausted Magnus to Alec’s place, where it wasn’t as bad. Or those other times when they’ve run into each other just before or after work, mumbled greetings and crooked ties.

It isn’t like they meet up at coffee shops or saw each other for the sheer sake of seeing each other.

So no, Alec hasn’t had the opportunity to drop any casual date ideas. Or offers, for that matter. And now Magnus is dating again, which may delve into a long-term relationship, which may roll out into marriage and kids and Magnus moving out and Alec never seeing him again.

It’s quite depressing, actually, when one cared to dwell on it.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts - again - not by the crackling of popcorn, which is frankly disappointing, but by the buzz of his door.

Not one to disappoint, it’s Magnus with a bag thrown over his shoulder, hair pushed back and no longer covering his eyes. It would look a bit more impressive if the comb wasn’t still stuck in his hair.

“Well,” Alec says, stepping back, testing out a new coping mechanism for his feelings: avoidance, clipped sentences and drawn back gestures. “Come in.”

Magnus steps in - and, oh dear, he’s grinning again, broad and lovely, and it does _things_ to Alec, twisting his stomach and making his head spin a little.

At least his synapses are firing again.

“Again, thank you.” Magnus steps into the apartment, closing the door behind him with the quietest click possible. “I know it was a strange request, but there’s no one else here I trust.”

“It’s fine,” Alec replies with the most dismissive wave of his hand that he can muster, “really.”

And Magnus, thankfully, doesn’t engage him in any more chit chat that will inevitably break Alec’s heart because he’s so gorgeous, so untouchable. Instead, he sweeps past Alec to, well, shower, presumably.

The popcorn finally does start to crackle, so at least Alec isn’t left alone with his thoughts, or at least not completely.

He switches on the TV and puts on an episode of _One Day At A Time_. He may be crying tonight, but he stubbornly refuses to do it because of his own problems.

Screw them. Alec doesn’t need Magnus. He doesn't need anybody.

He isn’t about to let a crush get in the way of his happiness.

So there.

.

The credits and tears are rolling after a healthy binge of _One Day At A Time_ on a Friday night because it's not like he's got anywhere else to be.

Izzy's working. Jace is in London. Maryse is on another date. Everyone he knows is doing something: everywhere, but nowhere that involves Alec because that would be simply too ludicrous.

But, before the clock ticks ten, there's the buzz of his door echoing throughout his apartment.

Alec's a mess, popcorn all down his cable-knit jumper and eyelashes glued together.

At least he can blame what he was watching, not the heartbreak that comes from having to cheerfully wave off your crush as they went on a date. It's his own fault, anyway. And it had been something more like a grunt and the thud of his door.

He throws off the blanket weighing down his legs before stumbling to the door.

When he opens it, he blinks. Maybe it's the fatigue settling into his bones that's making him see things.

For it’s Magnus, again. And he looks absolutely miserable. There are wilting flowers resting in his limp hands and his shirt is wrinkled and stained.

“Hello?” Alec says, not exactly sure of what to do, what to say.

Other than maybe he should have cleaned up a little bit before answering the door. But, well, he hadn’t exactly been expecting Magnus to come back.

After a date, you normally didn’t go and visit your lonely neighbour who let you use their shower for that date.

There’s a hairline chip running down Magnus’ new coat of dark magenta polish on the finger he’s listlessly tapping on the door, sparkling in the fragmented golden light filling their corridor.

Alec fixes his gaze on the scuff mark on the door of the apartment opposite him, or at least he tries to.

“Why are you here?”

He’s been told that he’s too blunt, too abrasive. But it’s nearly ten o’clock on a lonely Friday night nursing his aching heart, and he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do when the cause of his heartache spontaneously appeared at his door.

Magnus bites his lip. “The date didn’t go so well.”

It's painful to see Magnus downtrodden, deflated. "You alright?"

“I’m fine,” Magnus dismisses, with a wave of his hand, “it was a first date, it was blind, and I’m too hung up.”

He cuts himself off before he finishes his line of thought. “Point is, my friends thought I ‘needed to move on’ or something ridiculous like that.”

“Right,” Alec replies, because that’s what everyone always wants - a sign that you’re listening, but not one that you want to share your stories, too.

Everyone likes to pretend that their not self-obsessed: but the thing is, they are, and no one has ever wanted to be entertained by the mediocre stories of Alec Lightwood before.

Magnus sighs, now coming inside the apartment with silent footsteps. “Do you have a vase that I can put these in? They don’t deserve to die simply due to my awful dating skills.”

Alec closes the door after Magnus: the hallway is never anything but the same frigid temperature, and without his blanket, the apartment is gaining a slight yet persistent chill.

“Ah, yes, actually.” Alec can’t help but rub his neck. “Behind the cabinet, next to the salt.”

Magnus smiles, all grace and poise. “Thank you.” 

But Magnus doesn’t move: why would he? He doesn’t know where Alec keeps his salt, he doesn’t come to Alec’s apartment other than when he has no other options.

The cold has abated, now with the door closed, the heat from before wafting up, but Magnus is still shivering, slightly.

Alec frowns. Izzy tells him he frowns too much: Alec tells her that it is the rest of the world that needs to stop smiling every second of the day. “Are you cold?”

Magnus, from where he is not so discreetly rubbing his arms up and down his rumpled silk shirt, shrugs. “No.”

It’s then that Alec notices that the stain is dark, and fragrant, almost like red wine. 

“Is that wine?”

He’s always prided himself in his observational skills and stellar conversation starters.

Alec’s always been rough, with unpolished edges: ways and mannerisms of talking and being that ruffled up everyone else’s feathers.

Magnus drops his arms, almost deflating, falling in on himself in a way that Alec’s never really seen before. “Yes.”

It’s intimate, fragile, but because Alec has never been one much for tact, he pursues his thread of curiosity. “Why?”

Magnus swallows, and it is then that Alec realises that they are still standing in his hallway, popcorn kernels still sticking to his worn grey jumper. 

But Alec doesn’t move yet. He bit the bullet. May as well as reap his reward, so to speak.

“It’s. Well. She threw a glass of wine at me.”

“Oh,” Alec replies, “well, that’s a bit… unusual? Very Hollywood.”

“Yes, it is,” Magnus agrees, but his next smile is bitter. “It was… well-deserved.”

There’s this fire, of sorts, lingering in Magnus’ eyes. Alec wonders what put it there. Probably his lousy date.

Alec moves into his kitchen and heads for the cupboard over the sink: the one that peeks out, the one he has hit his head on more times than he can count.

“Anyway,” Magnus says, gracefully cutting across the silence once again, “enough about me. What did you do tonight?”

There’s something wistful, in Magnus’ tone, if Alec cares enough to listen, which he always does when it comes to Magnus. A wistfulness like smoke as dawn spills across the sky in all its colourful glory, almost invisible, and with one ray of sunlight too strong, it fades away.

“Nothing much,” Alec says, his head stuck in the cabinet as he reaches for the dusty vase.

The dusty vase, singular, as Alec only has one vase. It’s not old, or antique, or anything particularly precious: but it is unused, with soft flowers and weeds engraved into glinting steel. 

Alec doesn’t know why he bought it.

Actually, that’s a lie. He knows exactly why, but it’s a bit much to admit.

Alec had bought it, three or four months after Magnus had moved in down the hall, because Izzy had suggested that perhaps it would make his home look more attractive, and by default Alec, with flowers blooming next to his steel grey sink.

The morning he had gone to buy those flowers, he’d seen Magnus kiss a lady hello on his doorstep on the way down, and that was the end of _that_ particular endeavour.

But Alec shakes himself out of his own pining mess, and looks up and out of the cabinet to meet Magnus’ eyes, as he knows is polite to do.

“I watched some _One Day At A Time_ ,” he says.

Magnus blinks, almost with surprise, as if he is too polite to ask why he wasn’t doing something more productive, more interesting, on a Friday night.

“Oh,” he says, “well, that sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” Alec hands Magnus the vase. “I’m up to the second last episode of the second season, if you would like to watch it with me?”

The invitation is more brazen than Alec would normally dare, but Magnus is. Well. Wistful with wine inked into his shirt.

“Sure,” Magnus says: it’s now five past ten. His hands are delicate, gentle, holding Alec’s vase from the flea market downtown. “Why not?”

The melancholy from before hasn’t quite been dislodged from Magnus’ face: but Alec feels like it would be a misstep to inquire any further than he already has, so he bustles around his kitchen, puts on some more popcorn and returns to the couch to resume his binge session, albeit with company this time.

Magnus, who has left the vase on the kitchen table, is now perched on the edge of Alec’s two-seater couch, almost as if he is scared of scuffing the beige leather.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alec says, pushing play.

Magnus doesn’t move, but he does relax, sinking everso slightly into the couch.

As the show starts, Alec can’t help but be lost in Magnus’ beauty instead: the slope of his neck, the way his hair falls against his face, the warmth of his eyes.

Alec thinks that the woman who rejected Magnus was a fool, and wishes that he had a chance with Magnus.

But men like Magnus don’t fall for men like Alec, so even if Magnus is now sitting within his home, his crush on Magnus - his dreams of dating Magnus - remains firmly shelved with all of his other impossible fantasies, like his father being a decent man.

To Magnus, Alec is the neighbour he can rely on for the small things in life, like sugar and showers.

Not, and never, his heart.

.

Alec wakes the next morning with a crick in his neck and still in last day’s clothes.

He really needs to stop falling asleep on the couch: whenever he complains of any sort of physical soreness, Maryse always blames his posture. Which is probably true, but still. Some sympathy wouldn’t go amiss.

It must be nearly midday: the room isn’t flooded with light, no - the blinds are drawn - but it is bright enough that Alec can clearly see Magnus Bane sleeping a few feet from him on the same couch.

Alec shakes his head, as his brain blearily processes what is happening before him: Magnus Bane - his crush, his hot neighbour, his ultimate fantasy date - is sleeping, snoring ever so slightly, on Alec’s worn couch.

Alec doesn’t know why he’s surprised: it’s not like Magnus left last night, so it shouldn’t be odd that he fell asleep here.

Still, Alec expected him to go back to his own apartment after Alec had fallen asleep: he must have been really tired, then, to fall asleep in Alec’s home.

Whatever way Alec’s insecurities tried to spin it, this is a display of immense trust: but, as they reminded him, Magnus was already an incredibly trusting person, and him sleeping here illustrated Alec’s general lack of criminal action, not Magnus requiting his feelings.

“Magnus?” He says, softly. 

Alec isn’t known for being soft: he’s known for his jagged edges and abrasive words, but there’s something about Magnus that just makes him melt.

“Magnus,” he continues, twisting his fingers absentmindedly in his blanket, “you should probably wake up.”

Magnus has a cat: he should go back to feed him, and regardless, he probably didn’t want to wile his Saturday away asleep on Alec’s couch.

Magnus shows no signs of waking up. Alec sighs, getting up, letting the blanket puddle at his feet in a haphazard mess. He should probably shower: watching Magnus couldn’t be classified as anything but creepy.

He’s quiet when he shuts the door to his bedroom.

.

When Alec returns from his shower, now in a plaid shirt with skinny jeans, Magnus is awake, if only just.

He’s rubbing his eyes, yawning, and Alec ignores the way his stomach flips: he has plenty of practice, after all.

“I can make breakfast, if you’d like,” Alec offers, his voice still soft.

Magnus disarms him, walks right past his walls and into his heart: and he doesn’t even know, doesn’t even care.

Alec’s life would be easier if he stopped falling for unattainable people.

“That would be lovely, Alexander.” Even just woken up, with a slight rasp to his voice, Magnus is eloquent. “I don’t want to impose much more on your hospitality, though.”

“You don’t have to stay.” The words slip through Alec’s mouth like quicksand.

Magnus watches Alec closely: his gaze is impenetrable, though it is fond. Alec cannot imagine why.

“I’ll go freshen up back in my apartment - not to shower, unfortunately,” Magnus says with a rueful grin, “and feed my cat, who even now must be pining for food. But I’d love to come back for breakfast, if you are so inclined.”

Magnus, even with rumpled hair and crinkled clothes, is beautiful. But Alec doesn’t think his unsolicited compliment would be welcomed.

“Of course you can,” Alec says, “your company is always welcome.”

What Alec doesn’t say is that he could never turn Magnus away. 

Alec thinks he sees heightened colour on Magnus’ cheeks, but he must be mistaken. A trick of the light, perhaps.

“Right,” Magnus says abruptly, standing up. “I’ll see you in half an hour or so, Alexander.”

.

Alec is plating the last of the crepes when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come on in,” he says, sprinkling sugar over his signature dish, “the door’s unlocked.”

Magnus walks in. He’s now dressed in what must be a pair of tailored acid-washed jeans and a sky blue button-down shirt.

“Thank you, Alexander,” he says, “my cat was particularly adamant this morning, so I took longer than I anticipated. Now, what will we be having for breakfast?”

Alec thinks that he must be dreaming.

It is one thing for Magnus to come into his home to use his shower when his own is broken. It is another for Magnus to turn up heartbroken at Alec’s door when he has nowhere else to go at that time of night.

It is another thing, an unfathomable thing, for Magnus to voluntarily return to Alec’s apartment for breakfast.

Maybe Magnus has run out of food, or didn’t mind spending more time with Alec if it meant free breakfast?

“Crepes,” is what he says, because he’s good at hiding his insecurities, after all these years of practice. “Tea?”

When Magnus nods, Alec turns back to his kettle and busies himself with getting out tea leaves, along with the blue and white teapot with a chip in the spout from when Izzy dropped it on moving day.

It’s more to calm Alec’s nerves than anything else.

“How’s work?” he asks. Small talk. He can do this, if he ignores how adorable Magnus is, however temporarily.

At this, Magnus brightens. “Oh, wonderful. We’re looking at how we can manipulate gravitational fields to our advantage when we send people to Mars to shorten the journey’s time.”

The scientific terms go over Alec’s head - Magnus is a Physicist for NASA - but he nods. Not that he doesn’t understand what Magnus is saying, but he’s a bit too tired, bit too frazzled, to think of gravitational fields right now.

“Hm,” Alec says, leaning forward, “that’s interesting.”

And as Magnus talks, with swift hand movements and beautiful laughter, Alec lets himself imagine - just for a second - that this isn’t temporary, that it isn't just a glitch in time.

If only.

.

They continue to eat breakfast together, in the light of the day, and Alec is careful to stick to small-talk and light-hearted chatter.

Until Magnus says this, of all things, carefully putting down his fork and knife. Everything he does is elegant, perfectly controlled, even eating crepes. 

“Alexander, I’ve been meaning to ask something for months now, but there’s never been the right time.”

Alec, because he can never deny Magnus anything, nods. “Go ahead.”

Magnus bites his lip. It’s adorable, of course it is. “Would you like to go out on a date?”

“With me?” Alec does not splutter: internally, he does, with shock if nothing else. Outwardly, he purses his lips. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Of course I’d like to go on a date with you,” Magnus says, as if he has never been more certain. “You’re kind, hard-working and generous. And you are incredibly handsome. I’d also like to have my friends stop teasing me over my crush on my ridiculously cute neighbour and actually do something about it, of course, but that’s secondary.”

“You have a crush on me?” Alec’s brain may as well have been short-circuited. “Really?” And then, because his mouth has decided to suddenly rescind its filter, and he is scrambling to not make Magnus feel as if he is rejecting him, he says: “But I thought I was supposed to be the idiot pining after you?”

Magnus laughs, his eyes sparkling. “We can be idiots together, if you want.”

“Sure.” And for once, Alec ignores his insecurities. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Magnus.”

And when Magnus smiles, open and genuine and warm at the thought of _their_ date, Alec thinks that sometimes, sometimes, fantasies can become reality.

**Author's Note:**

> all comments and kudos and whatnot are appreciated xx
> 
> [tumblr](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mirroroflit)


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